


reaper (make me feel alive)

by moeblobmegane



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: (It's Yuto), Alternate Universe - Psychopaths, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Dark, M/M, Murder, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21873400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moeblobmegane/pseuds/moeblobmegane
Summary: Drop by drop, he was painting everything red.Yamada was an artist and Chinen was his captive audience.
Relationships: Chinen Yuri/Yamada Ryosuke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: JUMPing Fic Carnival 2019





	reaper (make me feel alive)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [h_itoshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_itoshi/gifts).



> Trigger warning: violence, ideation of violent death?, overall psychopath behavior

Chinen drifted in a grayscale world, going through life from one task to the other as he was expected to do. Everything came easy and none of it meant anything to him. He knew that life had some meaning, that the entirety of this world couldn’t exist without a purpose to keep it going, but that felt irrelevant.

He graduated with honors and his colleagues told him, “ _You can get anything you want if you put your mind to it._ ”

He smiled and shook their hands. He agreed despite the emptiness he felt eating away in his chest.

It had been a long time since he wanted anything.

Everyone called him a genius. A prodigy. A champion.

Chinen called himself bored.

Unmotivated.

Lifeless.

Yamada was all-white when Chinen first saw him, from his silver hair to his pale skin. He was wearing a white suit and holding a long ceramic knife. The snow was falling from the sky in a torrential storm, blanketing everything in sight. The whole scene felt pure and clean, untouched.

And then, in the blink of an eye, there was red.

On the ground, on his suit, on his skin.

Drop by drop, he was painting everything red.

Yamada was an artist and Chinen was his captive audience.

He threw himself head-first into it with a motivation he’d only shown when he was ten and a much bigger boy pushed him to the ground in school. He had learned every single way he could use his smaller build to bring down anyone who dared touch him again. (Two years later, he won the gold for their regional championships. The next day, he had quit his club without a backward glance.)

He was smart enough to figure out who was important, who he needed to befriend, and who he needed to never cross. He was charming enough to get into the inner circle in a handful of months. He was clever enough to appear intelligent but harmless, useful but not threatening.

Six months after, he found himself in front of Yamada.

“Why would you want to join me?” He asked, leaning close and staring at Chinen with pure curiosity. There was no worry or fear. Chinen thought perhaps Yamada had no need for those.

“Because I want to see more,” Chinen answered.

 _Because I want you_ , he thought.

Yamada’s slow smile felt like an agreement to a question he did not ask.

Rich men with trust funds who lived with a silver spoon in their mouths were Chinen’s favorite victims to watch. They always started with pride, then bargaining, then a slow descent down despair. They didn’t know what true pain felt like. They always thought they could win, and watching Yamada innocently smile at them as he set fire to their piles of money made Chinen shiver every time it happened.

They never realized that bargaining never works for Yamada.

He was a simple man, after all. He was laser-focused on what he wanted, and what he wanted was blood in his hands and the cleansing feeling of watching someone die.

Yamada had a single purpose.

And Chinen wanted to do everything in his power to help him do it.

Some people deserved quiet deaths in their beds.

Some people deserved to be taken apart, piece by piece, one finger at a time until their throats were sore from screaming and the only thing they could whisper was _please kill me_.

Yamada was in the service of giving people what they deserved.

“Sakamoto?” Chinen offered, dropping the file in front of Yamada. “Fits your profile. I already found a weakness in his security. He’s the type who’ll take all his money and run away to another country rather than try and fight. Making him disappear will be a piece of cake.”

Yamada picked it up and read through it quickly before throwing it to the other side of the room with a frown. “No,” he said. He pouted and tapped the paring knife he was playing with on the table between them. “You can find me someone else.”

Chinen smiled and nodded. Of course. Sakamoto was too easy. It won’t be satisfying. Yamada wanted someone who would scream in pain, who would cry until they were a sobbing mess, who would beg for mercy, and who would ask for forgiveness for deeds they didn’t truly believe to be sins.

“Can you tell me again what you want?” Chinen asked.

With a careless throw, Yamada let his knife embed on the corkboard behind Chinen’s head. He crossed his arms and went on to explain what he needed from his victims. _It’s an exchange_ , he would say, as he always did whenever Chinen asked. _I end their life and they give me pleasure_.

Chinen sat back and let Yamada’s passion wash over him. He would listen to his criteria with a small smile and a growing heat in his chest.

He didn’t really know why Yamada ranting about who he wanted to kill felt like their own version of foreplay.

It was not surprising in the least when the dreams started coming.

With every new death, with every scene of carnage surrounding Yamada, Chinen felt himself closer and closer to the edge. It was a fall he was expecting. The dark abyss was preferable to the gray mediocrity.

It didn’t hurt that Yamada was the most beautiful man Chinen had ever seen.

So when he dreamed of ceramic knives slicing down his chest, of pure white hands prying him open, of a ruthless hand gripping his heart and squeezing it until it stopped beating, he embraced the images. It was pure desire coursing through his veins. A new feeling. A welcome change to a life lived without passion.

It was a revelation.

Chinen wanted Yamada’s hands inside him, carving a space inside his chest. He wanted his ribs to accommodate Yamada’s wrists as his pulse beat in synch with Chinen’s dying heart. He wanted his blood to bathe Yamada’s arms, to taint the skin until it leaves a stain Yamada can never erase.

He wanted his last memory to be of Yamada looking down at him with that honest smile of his.

He would always wake up with fire under his skin and a cock aching for release.

The desire was easy to handle, though. It was easy to accept.

Yamada was beautiful and Chinen wanted that beauty to envelop him whole. That was just human nature. His growing desire was easy to pass off as a need awakened from this new life.

But the affection he felt was another matter altogether.

For all that Yamada was deadly and alluring, he was also soft and sweet at times. It was confusing for everyone else, but Chinen saw it for what it was: the simple truth. Yamada killed with terrifying efficiency and he enjoyed the feeling of warm blood on his hands. He was honest with his desires. He was straightforward. He didn’t work with right or wrong; instead, his instincts decided for him.

And sometimes those instincts made him cook breakfast for a sleep-deprived Chinen. Or it would make him hide all the files in Chinen’s room to make him stop working.

“ _Play with me_ ,” he’d say with a carefree grin. He would mean _run after me_. He would mean _chase me_ in the most innocent of senses.

It was a part of him, too. He wanted to kill. He wanted to play. He wanted to eat and sleep and live. Yamada had very simple desires.

Chinen always felt jealous of that, but he admired it too. Just as Yamada covered in blood made a heat run through his spine, Yamada in his softest moments made Chinen want in a way he had never felt before.

“You can’t overwork yourself,” Yamada said as he brushed Chinen’s bangs aside. It was a gentle touch from a hand so used to violence. “You’re not allowed to die.”

Chinen laughed and shook his head. “Why?”

Yamada’s hand lingered in his hair, stroking lightly as if petting a cat. Then, he leaned forward and placed a fleeting kiss on Chinen’s forehead.

“I’m the only one allowed to kill you,” he said with a smile.

Chinen smiled back.

His first kill, when it happened, was unplanned. Every single part of his work with Yamada had been flawless, had been sketched out as many times as he could to avoid unnecessary hindrances. He would never put Yamada in danger. That was not a risk he was willing to take.

Not everything could be accounted for, however.

It was just a matter of time until someone rebelled against his control.

Yuto was a dirty banker who gave them information on their victims. He had been selling Chinen names for almost a year when a bout of conscience suddenly hit him.

“I can’t watch this anymore,” Yuto said, shaking his head so hard it almost dislodged his glasses. “I have to tell—”

 _That’s such a shame,_ Chinen thought as he lunged forward and used his size to ruin Yuto’s balance. They sprawled on the ground, Yuto on his back and Chinen straddling his waist with one hand on Yuto’s neck and the other on his tie.

Knives were Yamada’s chosen weapon because Yamada liked the mess. He loved watching his victims’ blood leak out and flow. It felt raw and animalistic, the way he would slash and cut with abandon.

Chinen decided that ropes were his thing. It was controlled and clean, but it made each person struggle more and more as their lungs were constricted. There was always a moment of desperation when they thought _I can get out, I can move, I can still live_ until one, two, three seconds pass and life slowly fades away from their eyes.

It was beautiful.

Yuto’s necktie was a noose that Chinen readily used. It was almost _begging_ to be twisted and tugged. Chinen watched in fascination as Yuto stopped struggling. Eyes wide and mouth agape, his eyes finally lost its light.

He was still staring down at his informant’s lifeless body when he heard the door open.

“Chinen,” Yamada called out, only to stop and stare at the scene. “Oh.”

“A complication,” Chinen explained.

“You used his tie?” Yamada asked, walking closer with that manic glint in his eyes. He knelt down and dragged his hand on the pooling blood Chinen did not notice. Yuto must have hit his head when they fell. “Not as clean as you hoped, huh?”

Chinen grimaced. “Blood’s not my style,” he said.

Yamada tilted his head and raised his hand to draw a line from Chinen’s cheek to his jawline. The blood was still warm. Chinen felt it trickling down his neck to his collarbone.

“It fits you,” Yamada whispered in awe, watching its path with a hungry gaze. He stood up and took Chinen’s hand to drag him until they were both standing. He held on to Chinen’s wrist as he dragged him towards the door. With an almost casual tone, he asked, “How was it? Your first?”

Chinen did not have any words to describe it. The closest he could get to untangling the mess of feelings inside him was to tug at Yamada’s hand and surge forward to claim his lips once and for all.

 _I feel free_ , he said with his lips.

 _I feel wild_ , he said with his hands.

 _I need you_ , he said into Yamada’s neck. _Please_.

Yamada understood him better than anyone ever did.

With no more need for words, Yamada pushed him towards the wall, his hand on Chinen’s hips tight enough to bruise. He kissed him hard, with all the intensity in his body. It felt like being swallowed whole. It felt like Yamada wanted to climb inside him and take him apart.

 _Please_ , he thought, and Yamada pushed his thigh between Chinen’s legs where he was aching with need.

Chinen moaned and pressed his cock harder against the offered thigh, riding it to chase after something just a little out of reach. He felt _desperate_ , but he needed more than this. He needed Yamada to give him more.

 _Not enough,_ he thought and Yamada’s hand finally reached down to unbutton their jeans, releasing them both with a chorused groan. Chinen let his head drop down unto Yamada’s shoulder, panting hard as he looked down at Yamada’s hands working on them both.

His eyes focused on the red stains on Yamada’s hands.

With a shudder, he realized it was blood. It was blood from Chinen’s first kill.

“Oh, god,” he murmured, shaking as the pressure built up. “ _Please_.”

“Come,” Yamada said, a plea as much as an order.

And Chinen did. He shook apart in Yamada's arms like a moment in his dreams.

“Would you kill me too?” Chinen asked later where they were lying on Yamada’s bed. He traced Yamada’s callouses and wiped at the blood that still stained his fingers.

Yamada pressed a kiss on his shoulder and answered, "Not yet."


End file.
